//------------------------------//
// Alone with the Dead 
// Story: A Land Without the Sun 
// by Amethyst_Dawn 
//------------------------------//

She never could have seen what would become of her world, how wonderful it was until she stepped away.





Rarity felt the passive bite of the true outdoor air as she stood by the thatched gates of Ponyville, the only entrance through a sloppy wall of rubble and grass. She felt cold, but not chilled from any breeze or a summer night’s embrace. No, this was separate from any brumal  crispness entirely. Her core burned like a furnace stoked with fresh wood and oil, but her skin sprouted goosebumps as if she was shoved into a blizzard without wind. It was a strange, gelid sensation that she both could and couldn’t feel, a perception that could only be honestly described by the nuances of spoken language. She would’ve had to distract her mind from dwelling on the numb biting if her focus hadn’t already been preoccupied with the framed photo she had been holding delicately in her forehooves for the last hour.

The image displayed seven creatures on it, each as distinct from the others as night from day. At the top was an old griffin, greying in the feathers but appearing a few years younger than the mare he held under his wing. Beneath them were arranged four adult hippogriffs, and a youthful albino unicorn with piercing yellow irises. The old mare in the photo bore an uncanny resemblance to Rarity, only much older. A part of her wanted to hide in a cave at the sight of how wrinkled and thin she could become, but that part was silenced by what the photo captured in the family’s faces.

Each face was smiling. But it didn’t feel like the typical family photograph; where the smiles were sincere yet hiding an unstated contempt that would build more with years passing, these smiles felt wholly genuine. The mare’s in particular was a smile Rarity couldn’t look away from. It was small and simple, but the curve of her lips was complimented by a shine in her eyes that she was drawn towards. A shimmer of something she craved to understand, and only now realized she was missing. The thought that the mare in the picture was her both alarmed and comforted her, stirring uncertainty and intrigue.

“I’m glad I found that sort of happiness,” Rarity muttered to herself. She looked to the background of the photograph again, the unmistakable layout of her Manehattan boutique, and laughed emptily. “Let’s hope that for now, I can find a way home.”

Rarity glanced away from the photo when she heard a frustrated grunt, tucking it into the saddlebags sitting at her side. She turned to see the mare who saved her from the fall shoving a stake into the ground a few yards in front of her, nailing a small plank of wood in place. It appeared to have a large iron sandal tacked onto it, the sort of crude protection the old pony tribes used to nail to their hooves.

Rarity had no time to dwell on the implications, unfortunately. At that moment a hazy, translucent figure taking the form of a pony stepped out from the gates, flickering and dancing like a flame while simultaneously maintaining its shape flawlessly. The confusing and conflicting appearance of it sent a surge of shock pulsing through Rarity, she felt her hackles rise as the unrelenting feeling of sheer wrongness caved its shadow in on her again. The creature didn’t seem to take notice of Rarity whatsoever, and walked past her with an unnervingly intense limp. Its hooves stopped at the dust that coated the path out of town, not leaving even a hint of its presence as it stepped calmly towards the grieving mare.

“Periwinkle?” It spoke softly, reaching a hoof out to the pony. Before Rarity could begin to comprehend what she was seeing, the scarred mare screamed in a fit of rage and lashed out at the ghostly figure with brutal punches. Each swing of her hooves resounded with a sickening crack as it struck and obliterated pieces of the entity, sending streaks of glowing light in several directions. Rarity couldn’t help but shriek in shock, the very pony that saved her life was tearing that sorrowful thing to shreds without a hint of remorse.

After leaving nothing but a pale silhouette of the spectre, Periwinkle choked and sobbed in ragged breaths. She sounded tired, distraught, and agonized. But much to Rarity’s growing discomfort, her crying carried the sound of rage more than any sort of sadness or remorse. She watched with startled intrigue as the ethereal pony turned around, the silhouette moulding into a translucent shape that barely resembled the ghostly figure it used to be. The thing just stared with a look of empathy and sorrow at Periwinkle, no sign of pain or even annoyance over what just transpired anywhere in their movements.

“I never got to even touch him since the Surge...” Periwinkle hissed, keeping her gaze firmly on the ground. “An eternity of growing old in this forsaken world, and an eternity since I could even feel his heartbeat. Always just out of reach, always right in front of me. Just like you… just like everyone who wasn’t…”

Periwinkle stayed stooped low, moved only by her own heaving breaths. Rarity wanted to approach, but something held her back. She wasn’t sure if it was how little she knew the mare, or the fiery hatred that scorched her eyes. She vainly reached a hoof out towards her new acquaintance, hoping that perhaps some comfort would be offered to the grieving mare through the gesture. The glowing shape draped what Rarity could only guess was a forehoof over Periwinkle’s shoulder, prompting a few more seconds of tense silence as she broke down completely. Without a sound, Periwinkle fell onto her side. 

Rarity decided to give the mare some time alone, turning to search for something to keep her mind occupied while she waited for their departure. She reached for her bag, shuffling through its contents mostly consisting of small tools and medical supplies. She closed her eyes, letting a tense gust of air hiss out from her lips. Everything was wrong with this place, but she couldn’t place her hoof on where to start when the time came to deduce what had changed. Exasperated, Rarity tilted her head skywards, and opened her eyes to let her mind wander.

And then her heart stopped.

Above her head was the expanse of open space, but not in any way she’d ever dreamed of seeing it. The shining sparkles of every tiny star in the sky Rarity had seen since she was a filly were replaced with far-reaching tongues of fire belching from immeasurable spheres of pure light, no bigger than she had seen them before; but far more intricate than the sky had told her. The vicious, blazing tendrils flew out of the infernos that birthed them, and intermingled with every gaseous nebula they could reach, each tuck and twirl of the plasma as defined as the carving on a coin. With every flinch in her focus, a new world was laid bare as Rarity peered into the expanse. She could look to the stars and see every individual eruption without blur, every continent and storm on other worlds was crystal clear, and every image was as crisp to behold as if under a microscope. No object was larger or closer than it had ever been, but the universe was laid bare to her vacant eyes. Her attention darted from planet to planet, star to star, lost in a trance beyond a hope of conscious thought as her head spun like a spool. Until finally, her eyes rested on the void; a near complete blackness that strung every planet, nebula and star together in an intricate web like a great spider’s nest. Rarity swore she could see beyond the limits of the galaxy with just her own eyes. And if she looked deep enough, she felt like she could see beyond the unimaginable depths of the void itself.

And then came the most mesmerizing sight Rarity would ever see again, for a massive shape that held itself beyond the sky, but blocked distant stars rolled across the horizon. Its form and texture was beyond any descriptors in the Ponish lexicon, and held within it a darkness so deep that the emptiness of space itself looked like pale moonlight next to it. Colors bent and curled around it, any form of light and atmosphere were unseeable in its wake. Rarity’s eyes seared with a strained agony as she stared into it, but the shape straight out of damnation seemed to seize her mind and impelled her to keep looking.

Suddenly, her mind returned to her body as if she was a fish being yanked out of the ocean by a hook. A sharp, stinging ache plagued her exposed sclera as she regained awareness, and Rarity couldn’t help but let out a shriek of pain. She wrapped her hooves over her face, pawing at her eyelids as they forced tear-soaked soil out of her eyes.

“Rule one of this life, Ma’am.” She heard Periwinkle hiss bitterly, “ is that you don’t look at the feckin’ sky. And do not ever, ever look into the sun. Ever. Understood?”

All Rarity could do was nod, her head reeling with a lightheaded sensation. The closest comparison her mind could make was a feeling similar ro standing up too fast after riding the Tilt-A-Whirl for three hours straight. She winced as her stomach doubled over, sending her violently retching to the ground.

"Oh for the love of--" Periwinkle scoffed, tucking a foreleg under Rarity's barrel and forcing her to stand. "If you're going to stumble around like a crippled wyvern, I'm not coming with you. Do you want my company, or not?"

"I..." Rarity heaved dryly, trying not to look at the mess she made. "I just need a moment, darling."

"Like hell you do," Periwinkle growled, hooking Rarity's foreleg with her own and dragging her away from the town walls. "We're not sticking around this dunghill just so you can unscramble your brains from your own stupidity. If you want sympathy, don't waste my time."

Taken aback and jostled out of any willpower, Rarity staggered behind Periwinkle, desperately trying to hold her insides together. Despite her clouded thoughts, she could decipher enough to know that she was in for a long, long trek.